Chapter 9 - THE WOMAN WHO WOULD NOT BE BOUGHT
Vincent found Paul Renzi before the police did.
What he did not do was bring Paul to a warehouse, a basement, or any of the places his younger self would have considered efficient.
He sent Lydia the location.
Then he waited in his office while detectives made the arrest.
Hayes stood near the desk looking as though he had swallowed something bitter.
“We’re really doing it this way?”
Vincent looked at him. “You want to explain to Norah why we didn’t?”
Hayes thought about it.
“No, boss.”
Paul talked within twenty-four hours.
Not because the police frightened him, but because Salvatore had already abandoned him. He admitted entering the diner and disabling the alarm. He claimed he never intended anyone to be hurt; the fire was supposed to destroy records and scare Norah away from the Costas.
“What records?” Norah asked when Lydia told them.
“That’s the interesting part,” Lydia said.
The Copper Kettle had once occupied the first floor of the original Costa family building. Decades earlier, before Vincent’s father became wealthy, Arthur and Mary lived upstairs. When the property was sold and rebuilt, Arthur kept ownership of the parcel through a small holding company.
Norah stared at Vincent.
“You own the diner building because your father never sold the land?”
“Apparently.”
“Does Gus know?”
“He pays rent to a management company.”
“And the records?”
Lydia opened a folder. “Mary may have hidden additional documents there. Paul was told to destroy the old storage room.”
The fire department allowed investigators inside once the structure was safe. Behind a warped wall panel they found a rusted metal box.
Most papers inside were ruined.
One envelope survived.
It contained a letter from Mary to Arthur.
Vincent read it alone first.
Then he asked Norah to sit with him while he read it again.
Arthur,
If Salvatore discovers I copied the accounts, he will tell you I am trying to divide the family. I am not. I am trying to stop our son from inheriting a war we should have ended ourselves. Vincent is angry because grief has taught him anger feels safer than fear. Do not let the men around him turn that anger into a profession.
If anything happens to me, choose the boy over the business.
Always.
Mary
Vincent lowered the page.
Norah said nothing.
He stood and walked toward the window.
“My father tried.”
“What?”
“To get me out. After she died, he sold two businesses. He enrolled me in college. I dropped out after six weeks and started working with my uncle because Salvatore treated me like an adult.”
“You were grieving.”
“I was stupid.”
“You can be both.”
He looked back at her.
“You make compassion sound insulting.”
“It keeps you from getting comfortable.”
A week later the Copper Kettle employees received temporary wages from a disaster fund created by the building’s management company. Norah discovered the paperwork only because Gus complained that someone had paid the insurance deductible.
She marched into Vincent’s office.
“You paid everyone.”
“Yes.”
“I told you not to rescue me.”
“I didn’t. The fund covers every employee. You receive exactly what they receive.”
“You are infuriating.”
“I followed your rules.”
She searched for a reason to remain angry and failed.
Vincent came around the desk.
“I need you to understand something.”
“That sentence usually causes trouble.”
“I can buy buildings. I can pay hospital bills. I can make your landlord fix a broken lock.”
“I know.”
“I cannot buy the reason you stayed in the rain with my father.”
Norah’s expression softened.
“That is why I don’t know what to do with you.”
The vulnerability in his voice startled her.
“Maybe don’t do anything with me.”
He smiled faintly. “That sounds difficult.”
“Try talking.”
“About what?”
“Anything that isn’t security, crime, or your father’s medication.”
Vincent considered this as if she had proposed a hostile merger.
“I like old movies.”
Norah laughed. “That’s your opening?”
“You said anything.”
“What kind?”
“Black-and-white detective films.”
“Of course you do.”
“And you?”
“Terrible cooking competitions.”
For the next hour, they sat in his office discussing useless things.
Favorite food. Worst jobs. Books neither finished. The song Norah’s mother used to play while cleaning their apartment.
When Vincent drove her home, he stopped one block away as promised.
Norah opened the door, then hesitated.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not turning Paul into another body.”
Vincent’s face became serious.
“I almost did.”
“But you didn’t.”
She leaned in and kissed his cheek.
Then she got out before she could regret it.
Vincent sat motionless for several seconds.
Hayes, in the front passenger seat, stared straight ahead.
“Not one word,” Vincent said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking loudly.”
At home, Norah touched her fingers to her lips and told herself the kiss meant nothing.
Across town, Salvatore Costa received confirmation that Paul had cooperated with police.
He poured himself a drink and made one final decision.
If Vincent would not start the war willingly, Salvatore would bring the war into Arthur’s house.
Norah and Vincent's first real date happened accidentally.
They were supposed to meet Lydia at a courthouse café to review insurance documents. Lydia canceled after being called into a hearing, leaving Norah and Vincent alone with two cups of coffee and sandwiches neither had ordered.
"This is not a date," Norah said.
"Obviously. On a date I would have chosen better coffee."
"Your coffee standards are fraudulent."
They stayed anyway.
For ninety minutes, Vincent told no one what to do. Norah learned he had once wanted to study architecture because he liked the idea of designing buildings people felt safe inside. Vincent learned Norah had been accepted to nursing school at nineteen but dropped out when the deposit was due.
"Do you want to go back?" he asked.
She hesitated. "Maybe. Companion work with Arthur made me realize I still care about it."
"I could—"
She raised one finger.
Vincent stopped.
"You could what?"
"Nothing."
"Good answer."
He smiled. "I was going to say I could help you research programs."
Norah lowered her finger. "That is acceptable assistance."
They spent the next week comparing community-college nursing prerequisites. Vincent did not offer tuition until Norah asked what scholarships his foundation funded. Even then, he connected her with an administrator and removed himself from the decision.
May you like
It was one of the smallest things he had ever done with money.
Norah noticed it more than every expensive gesture he could have made.
